


didn't want to be your ghost

by beskars



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Boba Fett Needs A Hug, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, this is very self indulgent don't look at me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:28:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28038429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beskars/pseuds/beskars
Summary: His chipped, moss-green helmet tipped up slightly in your direction, and silence split the air between the two of you like a chasm. You were afraid that if one of you didn’t speak soon, he would be swallowed up again.A Boba Fett x Reader drabble.
Relationships: Boba Fett & Reader, Boba Fett & You, Boba Fett/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 162





	didn't want to be your ghost

**Author's Note:**

> hi please come talk to me about star wars @ beskars on tumblr :)

**didn’t want to be your ghost;**

The twin suns had just sunken below the domed buildings that made up Mos Espa when you spotted a ghost making his way through the smokefall towards you. Rising from your seat on the stoop in front of your home, you retreated back a step and reached for the doorframe to steady yourself, swallowing hard as he came to a stop before you. The night had turned cold, and his tattered cape fluttered in the breeze that swept through the scattered buildings on the outskirts of the spaceport. His chipped, moss-green helmet tipped up slightly in your direction, and silence split the air between the two of you like a chasm. You were afraid that if one of you didn’t speak soon, he would be swallowed up again. 

“I thought you were dead.” 

The words came out more accusatory than you intended, but rather than allow him to think it had been accidental, you assembled your expression into something equally reproachful. 

“Did you weep?” he asked quietly, and you could hear the unforgiving nature of the desert in the rasp of his voice. 

You swallowed reflexively, as though it would assuage the dryness in his throat, and then shook your head, your brows pulling together.

“Not for you. For myself,” you replied coolly, folding your arms across your chest.

He tilted his helmet to one side, considering you. The wind rustling the tangle of cacta plants on either side of the stoop didn’t quite cover the way your breath hitched as you inhaled.

“I thought that maybe one day I’d get tired of you showing up only when it was convenient for you. Of wondering where you went when you disappeared for months at a time. Of wondering if something had happened to you. I thought that maybe I’d get so sick of it that I’d stop wishing for you to stay—” you started, forcefully clamping your mouth shut before you could utter the words  _ with me _ .

He was silent, watching you through his polarised visor. Once, you would have asked him to take it off. You had never liked him keeping it on when it was just the two of you, and had always felt like it was another way of keeping you at arm’s length. But now, you were thankful to not have to look into his eyes. You didn’t trust your resolve not to crumble.

“But then you died. Or at least, I thought you did,” you continued, your lower lip trembling traitorously. “And I knew that I would never have the chance to get sick of you, never even have the chance to tell you how fucking  _ angry _ you make me—” you broke off with a sharp gasp, hot tears spilling down your cheeks.

“Then tell me now,” Boba said quietly, taking a step toward you. “Tell me all those things you didn’t get a chance to say before.”

You let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking your head.

“You still don’t get it, do you, Fett?” you asked him bitterly.

“Get what?” he responded, a sliver of uncertainty in his low voice.

“Do you know how many times I rehearsed what I’d say to you if I ever got the chance? I used to repeat the words to myself over and over again until I was sure that I wouldn’t trip up the second you looked at me,” you told him, your hands curling into fists where they burrowed into your elbows. “But now that you’re here,” you went on, slumping in defeat as you offered him a small smile, “All I want to do is kiss you.”

You stepped toward him, reaching both hands up to lift the lip of his helmet before he gently grabbed your wrists, stilling you.

“I don’t look the same as you remember me,” he warned, and you shook your head.

“I don’t care,” you replied in a choked whisper, slowly pulling up as his hands fell back to his sides.

He took the helmet from you, tucking it beneath one arm before raising his eyes to meet yours, a small line of worry forming between his brows as you brushed your thumb across his scarred cheek. 

“I can’t promise that I won’t ever have to leave,” he cautioned you, and you frowned before he caught your wrist, holding your hand to his face as he continued. “But I’ll stay long enough this time to give you a chance to get sick of me.”

You beamed at him as he leaned down, his forehead resting lightly against yours as you wrapped one arm around his waist.

“What if I don’t?” you questioned, and he let out a soft huff of laughter.

“Then I suppose we’ll have to figure something out,” he replied, and you smiled as he went on, 

“But first, I’ll take that kiss.”

* * *

  
  



End file.
